


Best wingman ever

by assassi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Crushes, Curse Breaker Draco Malfoy, Curse Breaking, Drarry, F/M, Happy Ending, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, MMA Gregory Goyle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24093895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assassi/pseuds/assassi
Summary: “So… Potter?”, Greg asked, that small teasing smirk still on his handsome face.“When is it not?”, Draco sighed.“Are you ever gonna tell…?”, his friend began.“Are you ever gonna tell Millie?”, Draco snapped back.The smirk was gone, replaced with a frown, and Draco immediately felt bad.“Hey. I’m sorry, that was nasty…”“We’ve been there, Draco”, Greg muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s a respected Healer and I’m a mess.”“A hot-looking mess”, Draco noted.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Gregory Goyle & Draco Malfoy, Millicent Bulstrode/Gregory Goyle
Comments: 1
Kudos: 245





	Best wingman ever

The bar was crowded and noisy and not at all what Draco needed after a long shift at work. But it was their place, or at least one of them, and he could definitely use a drink after the shitty day he’d had. On days like today he wondered why he had even chosen his job.

Someone slid on the stool next to him, carefully saved for that person only, even with the cost of a mild _Confundo_ … or ten. Draco didn’t look up. The person sighed.

“That bad, huh?”, he asked.

Draco hmm-ed, finally looking up, only to hiss out a curse.

“Merlin, Greg…”

His friend smiled, wincing as his split lip moved up. He also had a split eyebrow and a nasty bruise on his jaw. All that considered, Gregory Goyle just shrugged, smiling as best as he could.

“It’s not bad. I won”, he winked, still smirking, the damn sexy bastard.

If he wasn’t one of Draco’s oldest childhood friends and currently his _best_ friend, they would be having a problem. Well, Draco would, since Greg was as straight as they came. He was also tall, muscular, with a jaw to die for and a smile that could melt anything. Gone was the baby-fat, replaced with tattoos and the kind of sinewy strength that came with MMA fighting. Draco’s eyes followed the path down his left arm, noting the way the white Henley stretched tightly over his upper arm, the way the sleeve was pulled up, revealing a strong forearm, leading to a big hand with bloody knuckles. Greg flexed his fingers nervously and opened his mouth but before he could say anything Draco had muttered the healing spell he was unfortunately way too familiar with.

He’d had to cast it wandless too, since they were in a Muggle bar.

“You could have at least healed those before you came”, he muttered.

Greg’s smile was softer when he answered. “When you fire-called… It sounded urgent.”

“My _urgent_ need of a drink does not warrant you walking in straight from a fight with your hands still bleeding, Merlin”, Draco hissed. “I’m a big boy, Greg, I can wait a few more minutes for my buddy to come drink away my sorrow with me.”

“So… Potter?”, Greg asked, that small teasing smirk still on his handsome face.

“When is it not?”, Draco sighed.

“Are you ever gonna tell…?”, his friend began.

“Are _you_ ever gonna tell Millie?”, Draco snapped back.

The smirk was gone, replaced with a frown, and Draco immediately felt bad.

“Hey. I’m sorry, that was nasty…”

“We’ve been there, Draco”, Greg muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s a respected Healer and I’m a mess.”

“A hot-looking mess”, Draco noted.

Greg snorted. He shook his head and motioned for another beer. But at least the smile was back, somewhat.

* * *

Redemption had been Draco’s key word after the war. That, and proving his worth. To whom… he didn’t know. (Greg would always make _that_ face when he said that, as if _he_ knew and if Draco dared to admit it, Draco knew too.)

Curse breaking was a back-up plan because, let’s face it, no one would give _Draco Malfoy_ a chance to be an Auror. It took him endless hours of training till he collapsed from exhaustion, and years to reach the level of competence he now had but eventually he’d made it. He’d build a name for himself, one that didn’t invoke a sneer and a curse at his back – the way it _had been_ , right after the war. But now, now he was no longer just the son of Lucius Malfoy, a former Death Eater, a cursed being. He was the curse _breaker_. Probably the best one out there.

Now, the down side of it, or the best thing in it depending on how you saw it… was having to work alongside the Aurors.

Like Harry fucking Potter.

Because no one had batted an eye about training and hiring St. Potter to once again be the Wizarding World’s Glorious Savior from All Things Evil.

(Greg made _that_ face _again_ when Draco slipped into that tirade.)

Draco wanted to be mad at Potter for having the chance Draco never would, and for a while he was. Then… then, for Draco’s utter disappointment (Greg, _face_ ) Potter had turned out to actually be a decent person. A nice person, who sometimes exchanged a few words with Draco while they were working on a case together. Sometimes smiled at him and always laughed at Draco’s dry jokes and looked genuinely pleased when their eyes met on a scene as Draco had just arrived and Potter had just found out who was the assigned cursebreaker. Of course it didn’t help that Potter had gotten rid of the glasses and had he always had such amazingly green eyes? He hadn’t gotten much taller but he had definitely gotten more… fit. Yes, fit.

Okay, so maybe Draco had had a mild heart attack the first time he accidentally caught Potter at the showers with nothing but a towel on, wide muscular shoulders on display, wet hair even messier than usual, the way it would have probably looked if Draco had pulled on it while Potter had been _ravishing_ him and….

Whoooa.

That.

That image had been carefully stored away for hours later when Draco lay alone in his bed, his hand around his own cock and gasping out Potter’s name… fully aware that was all he could ever have, stolen glances and memories for his… private time.

Because even if Potter was divorced from the Weaselette that only proved that he had been married and sexually attracted to her, a _woman_ , resulting in three kids. (Greg rolled his eyes at his _stellar_ arguments.)

Around that time Draco had been reacquainted with Greg, who’d battled his own battles and was still fighting with some of his demons. According to his friend, what had started as a way of venting and managing his anger-issues had quickly turned into a way of living and Greg had moved into Muggle London building a name for himself in MMA. Knowing him now, it was hard for Draco to imagine the self-destructive, red-anger phase Greg had gone through until he became what he was now – a muscular, tattooed softie.

With a desperate crush on Millicent Bulstrode who was a Healer in St. Mungo. 

Really, he had absolutely no right to judge Draco for his own may-be-crush on Potter.

* * *

They were sitting on the empty beach, staring at the stormy clouds above the ominously dark waters. They were quiet, each lost in his own inner world. Greg wore a hoodie with the hood pulled way down as if it could mask the bruises. Draco was still in his uniform. Both of them were nursing cold beers, a few empty bottles already lying in their feet.

“Thanks”, Greg suddenly said.

“Hmm? What for?”, Draco frowned.

“You never judge. Never asked me why. Never look at me with pity. I know you worry but you don’t even tell me to stop. You don’t tell me that I can be more, that I _should_ be more. You just… accept me as I am.” 

Draco gulped dryly, looking away. He took a moment before he spoke up.

“That goes both ways, Greg.”

* * *

Objectively speaking as a healthy bisexual man, Draco could see where Greg was coming from with his crush on Millicent. Time had been kind on her and she had blossomed since graduating Hogwarts. Where she had been a chubby kid with a permanent scowl, she was now a beautiful young woman, her curves on just the right places and her dimpled smile wide and confident. If she wasn’t his best friend’s crush and if he wasn’t so may-be-gone on Potter…

“Draco? Where are you?”, she asked, flipping her long black hair over her shoulder.

“Hmm? Just thinking”, he smiled back. “So, how does it look, Healer?”, he nodded at her notes, detailing his obligatory yearly check-up.

“All good”, she smiled back, pronouncing him ‘fit for duty’ with a single signature under his test results.

“Millie, what type of men do you like?”, he suddenly asked. “Assuming you like men, of course, I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions.”

“I do. I, um… you’ll say I’m stereotypical”, she looked away, blushing charmingly and biting her bottom lip.

“No, no, no judgement here”, Draco promised. “I’m curious, that’s all.”

“I, uh… I kind of lean towards the bad boys… I guess? And where did that come from?”, she laughed easily, dissipating the slight awkwardness.

“Just asking”, he beamed back.

* * *

“YOU ASKED HER WHAT!?”

“Well, I’m trying to be a good bro here, Greg, but you don’t make things any easier for me.”

“What..! How do you even…!? UH!”

He flung up his hands helplessly, pacing up and down Draco’s living room. Draco observed, unimpressed.

“I don’t see what your problem is. You’re straight, she’s straight, you are both attractive and single. You’re even her type! WHAT stops you!?”

“Should I go ask Potter what his type is?!”, Greg snarled.

“Uh, we already know what his type is – younger, ginger and oh, yeah – _female_!”

“You cannot possibly miss the point here”, Greg shook his head with disbelief.

“Which is?”

“Just because he’s only been seen with women so far doesn’t automatically mean he doesn’t like blokes too! He could be bi! Like oh, yeah – YOU!”

That… actually made Draco pause. It didn’t _sound_ very plausible but… still.

“Huh.”

Greg threw his hands in the air again.

* * *

Draco heaved a sigh and stepped back from the ancient looking door. He threw another curse detecting spell, just to be sure he had gotten rid of everything, then nodded at the team of Aurors waiting behind him.

“Clear.”

“You heard the man, guys”, Potter said as his team opened the door and stepped in slowly and carefully – no curses didn’t mean there were no mechanical traps. Potter stayed behind, surprising Draco since he was usually the first one to barge into danger. He fidgeted, looking nervous all of a sudden.

“So”, he cleared his throat. “I was wondering if you wanted to go for a few drinks after work. Nothing fancy, just a pub down from the Ministry…”

“Sure”, Draco heard himself answering.

Potter beamed. “Cool. Uh, yeah, that’s… cool. See you later?”

Draco nodded. “See you.”

Potter nodded back and hurried after his team.

Draco pulled out his cell phone, one he only had because of Greg, and shot him a quick message.

_“Not gonna make it tonight. Raincheck tomorrow?”_

_“Sure. Everything ok?”,_ Greg wrote back.

 _“Yeah. Potter suggested some new pub or something”_ , Draco answered, trying for nonchalance.

Sure enough, only a second later Greg’s response came with a string of thumbs-up’s and eggplant emojis. Sometimes Draco wondered how that was his life.

* * *

“Sooo…”, Greg drawled.

“So?”, Draco asked distractedly.

“Don’t play dump with me! How was your date!?”

“First, it wasn’t a date…”

“Uh-huh.”

“Second, it was a nice night out with a colleague.”

Greg wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“And?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “And nothing.” Then… “We agreed we might go out again sometime.”

“Uh, you have it worse than me”, Greg muttered into his glass.

“What was that?”, Draco narrowed his eyes.

“Nothing”, the bastard smirked.

* * *

They didn’t make it to a second… not-date. Because only a few days later the universe decided to remind Draco how much it hated him.

He was bent over a locket of all-things-corny, untangling a nasty case of a few interlocked curses. Potter, fidgeting next to him once again, didn’t help the process.

“So… I was wondering… did you want to… I mean I had a great time last time and I was hoping that you had, too, but you’re kind of hard to read and…”

“What?”, Draco frowned, looking up for just a second.

Potter’s unnaturally green eyes suddenly went wide and that was the last thing Draco remembered.

* * *

His consciousness swam in and out, in uneven bouts of clarity and fog. They rushed him into St. Mungo in a haze of urgency and slow-motionness. Either his uniform or Potter’s distressed presence right next to him alerted the Healers that he had to be taken seriously and tended-to immediately. He remembered it was a Tuesday and that was Millie’s day off. So they would assign him someone unfamiliar. He hoped they would alert his emergency contact in time for….

“He’s allergic to Adder’s Fork and Chizpurfle fangs!”, a familiar voice yelled.

Draco sighed, thanking each and every star that had listened to his prayers for once.

“Chizpurfle fangs?! But how would we apply the Wiggenweld…?”, a nurse nearby mused.

 _You don’t, duuh_. Draco wanted to smack her.

“Who the hell are you?!”, Potter barked.

Greg’s amused if slightly hysterical snort was the last thing Draco remembered before he blacked-out again. 

* * *

He woke up slowly to the feeling of being watched. His bleary eyes took forever to focus, Greg’s unreadable expression slightly unnerving so soon after regaining consciousness.

“Emergency contact, huh?”, he just asked.

Draco shrugged. “Who else?”

Greg reached out and squeezed his arm.

“You scared the shit out of me. Don’t do it again.”

Draco’s lips pulled into a slight reluctant smile. “I’ll try.”

Greg nodded, looking away and forcing on a nonchalant tone as he said, “Potter went for coffee. What kind of British person drinks coffee?”

“Potter, obviously”, Draco snorted.

“Well, he’s a heathen. Also, he blames himself for all that”, Greg waved a hand, encompassing the hospital room.

“Typical”, Draco sighed.

Millicent chose that moment to barge in, looking both worried and collected in her Healer robes.

“Draco. I just heard. How are you feeling?”, she asked in a hurry, nodding distractedly at Greg before her eyes widened and she did a double-take. “Greg? Gregory Goyle?”

It was hilarious how a man as big and intimidating as Greg could blush so heavily in just a few seconds. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously and smiled awkwardly.

“H-hi, Millie.”

“Well, hi. Wow. I mean”, she stuttered, completely out of character.

Honestly, those two.

“I mean, you… you look good”, she finally choked out.

“Uh, t-thanks. You… you too”, he nodded.

“He’s into MMA now. Totally a bad boy, if you’d look at it that way”, Draco interjected, for Greg’s utter horror, seen plainly in his wide terrified eyes. “But also my best friend. Very responsible. Emergency-contact responsible.”

“Ah. I see”, she nodded while Greg seemed to be choking on air.

An awkward silence fell in the room, all of them exchanging nervously-expectant looks. Greg stood up. He seemed to have finally regained his speech as he offered,

“Why… why don’t we go get Draco some tea?”

“S-sure”, Millicent nodded again and began walking out of the room. Greg followed her, turning to throw a last threatening glare at Draco, eyes narrowed and promising revenge.

Draco beamed back, pointing at himself with both hands and mouthing “best wingman _ever_!”

* * *

The next time Draco woke up, Potter was back to fidgeting next to his bed. As soon as their eyes met Potter’s first words were “I’m sorry.”

“What for? Please don’t tell me how that’s all your fault”, Draco sighed.

“But it…”

“Isn’t. I was distracted.”

“By me. You never get distracted and I distracted you and…”

“Potter, shut up. Yes, I got distracted. No, it wasn’t your fault. I wanted to tell you that I’d had a good time too, when we went for drinks.”

“Oh.”

“And that I’d love to do it again.”

“Oh.”

“It would be nice if you said something else than ‘oh’.”

“O-… I mean yes. Yes, I’d love to, too. Very much.”

“It’s a date then”, Draco smiled, then realizing how that sounded, “I mean, not a date-date, but, you know, the saying…”

“What if I want it to be a date-date?”, Potter asked quietly.

“Oh”, Draco wheezed out.

“Please say something else than ‘oh’”, Potter said with a shaky smile.

Draco smiled back. “Yes.”

* * *

They discharged him a few days later, forbidding him any strenuous activities for at least a week more. Millicent hovered around him like a mother hen and Draco had to bite back some sass and gently tell her to back off.

“But thank you for caring”, he’d added quickly.

What he hadn’t expected as he limped to the reception on a heavily bandaged leg was for Potter to be waiting for him there.

“Potter? What are you doing here?”

“It’s Harry. Especially since we’re going to share close quarters for the next week.”

Wait, what?

“What?”

“Greg told me you had to be supervised during recovery since you’re prone to disregarding Healers’ orders and I’m prone to believe that. So since he’s busy you’ll be staying with me. It’s not much… Shit, I mean it’s a Black estate, of course I didn’t mean it’s not much, I’m sure it was ugh, _glorious_ back when…”

Draco tuned out Potter’s rambling. Behind the Auror’s back Greg’s smug face said it all. He didn’t even had to point at himself and mouth the words.

_“Best. Wingman. E-V-E-R!”_

**Author's Note:**

> Story was inspired by an article I read about how HP’s child actors’ lives had changed years later and finding out that Joshua Herdman (Greg Goyle) is actually an MMA fighter now o.o Anyway, let me know what you think ^^


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